


We're Getting Married

by thenerdyindividual



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Crack, Established Harry Hart | Galahad/Merlin (Kingsman), Fake Marriage, Fake/Pretend Relationship, M/M, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:41:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22571185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenerdyindividual/pseuds/thenerdyindividual
Summary: Eggsy gets it into his head to make a quick buck by sending out wedding invitations to local millionaires, and billionaires, and selling off the expensive wedding gifts he's given. Jamal agrees to be listed as the husband-to-be on the invitation.  All is going according to plan until Harry Hart RSVPs yes. Then Eggsy, and Jamal are left scrambling to pull a wedding out of their asses.
Relationships: Jamal/Gary "Eggsy" Unwin
Comments: 12
Kudos: 47





	We're Getting Married

Jamal is crunched into the corner of his crappy sofa. Eggsy sits at the opposite end, his feet slowly, but steadily encroaching on Jamal’s end. There’s an almost empty family size crisp bag balanced between them. 

Jamal is starting to fall into the state where he’s not quite half asleep, but not fully coherent either. There’s something playing on the tv. Some weird blend of documentary, and reality show about people with sugar daddies, or sugar mamas. It’s almost shot like a true crime show. 

“Wouldn’t that be nice?” Eggsy says suddenly. 

“What would be nice?” Jamal asks, shifting up on the sofa so he can look at Eggsy. 

“Getting paid to do fuck all.”

“Thinking of getting yourself a sugar daddy, Eggs?”

“Nah. Not keen on sending nudes to some random old guy,” Eggsy admits, “but getting money out of some rich fucks would be nice.”

“Calm down Robin Hood, we ain’t conmen.” Jamal says, rubbing his eyes. 

They fall silent again, still watching the same channel on tv. A show about wedding planning is on next. Jamal takes the next commercial break to take a piss, and wash his hands. He can’t stand the feel of grease on his hands, let alone grease with germs. 

When he comes back, the portion on wedding gifts has started. The planner on tv is explaining how to register for gifts, and saying something about how to phrase the request for gifts so it isn’t tacky. 

Jamal smacks his cushion back into shape, and tucks himself back onto his section of sofa. Eggsy seems utterly enraptured by what the wedding planner is saying. Jamal couldn’t give a shit really, but it’s nice spending time with Eggsy. 

Just then Eggsy sits bolt upright, and turns to Jamal. 

“I have an idea.”

“Oh fuck, mate,” Jamal groans, his ‘Eggsy has an idea’ headache is already setting in, “Now what?”

“I think I figured out a way to get us some money.”

“Do I want to hear it?”

“We get married.”

“The fuck are you on about?”

“80 billionaires live in London, and nearly 300,000 millionaires. All of them have secretaries, and shit. They don’t handle their own schedules. We get as many addresses as we can, and send them invitations to a fake wedding. We register with some fancy department store, and those that bother to respond to our requests will send us wedding gifts even if they can’t come. Then we can sell that shit on eBay.”

“Are you fucking insane?”

“Think about it. Even if all of the invitations end up in the trash, we’re only out the money for invitations. Nothing we’re doing is technically illegal.”

“Wedding invitations are fucking expensive, and rich people will know if we get the cheap ones.”

“So we lean into the tacky. We list some sort of theme that makes cheap invitations make sense.”

Eggsy jumps off the sofa, and comes to kneel in front of Jamal. He has the wide grin on his face that he developed when was ten. So broad that Jamal can see the gap in his teeth. His face is illuminated by the flickering grey-blue light of the tv. Jamal remembers now, why he always gets pulled into these mad schemes. Eggsy gets this look in his eye sometimes, and it makes Jamal weak. 

“What do you say, Jamal? Wanna get married?”

“Oh fuck it. We keep the invitation budget under £100.”

“Yes, Jamal! That’s what I’m talking about!”

*

“I can’t believe this worked,” Jamal says as he opens the shipping box, “Christ. This blender is worth £500!”

“I have an espresso machine for about £1,000.” 

As they go through the haul, well haul is a relative term, only about ten people sent them gifts, a stack of mail is shoved through Jamal’s mail slot. A familiar looking envelope falls on top. 

Jamal snatches it up, recognizing it as one of the return envelopes for the RSVP. He tears it open casually, expecting a ‘no’, or a note stating that the invitation was sent to the wrong person. 

Instead the yes is circled, and the chicken option is checked off. In neat, precise handwriting at the bottom is written ‘Harry Hart +1’. 

“Shit.”

“What,” Eggsy asks, looking up from his losing battle with one of the boxes, “Everything alright?”

“You fucking wanker, someone said yes.”

“What? Yes to what?”

Jamal shoves the card in Eggsy’s general direction. Eggsy takes it, and looks over the perfectly filled out RSVP. 

“Shit.”

“So, smart guy, what happens now?” Jamal asks, crossing his arms. 

“Why do I have to come up with something?” Eggsy asks, indignant to the end. 

“It was your bright idea that got us into this mess, you have to get us out.”

Eggsy falls silent then. Jamal can almost hear the gears grinding in Eggsy’s head. This has always been Eggsy’s problem, too much cleverness packed into a man without a strong enough sense of self preservation. Although, Jamal supposes, it’s partially his fault for letting himself be dragged into these hairbrained schemes. 

“We get married.” Eggsy announces finally. 

“Are you mental, cuz?”

“I mean, not for real. We get Ryan to officiate, and we print out a fake certificate for us, and the witnesses to sign. We make it looks like we’re getting married, long enough for this Hart bloke to believe it, and then we never have to deal again.”

“And who are we getting as our witnesses?”

“Brandon would probably work, he’d do anything for twenty quid,” Eggsy says thinking quickly, “Liam will do it if we give him some weed.”

“And ain’t Hart going to be suspicious when none of our family is around,” Jamal points out, “And where are we supposed to get married?”

“We’ll get married in a park. You bring your nan. She can only speak Arabic right?”

“Yeah…”

“Well then she can’t rat us out. And I’ll bring Daisy as our flower girl and ring bearer, mum won’t mind the day off. Then we’ll say that neither of us have much family left.”

“What about the reception?”

“Reception?”

“Did you pay any attention to the show we watched, or how we printed the invitations? Seriously, I am questioning your sanity right now,” Jamal says, “There’s always a party after the ceremony. We chose a bourgey reception hall.”

“We can’t afford a reception hall Jamal!”

“This was your fucking idea!”

“What about the bowling alley? Your boss gave you the keys right?”

“You picked a Saturday because you thought it would be more realistic! The bowling alley is only closed Monday!”

“Okay. Okay. We send out a change of date, and location. We say the reception hall is under construction, and we move everything to the bowling alley. We do the ceremony in the park across the street, and then reception in the bowling alley.”

“I hate you so much right now. You do realize we are now planning an actual wedding?” 

“This might have gotten away from us.” Eggsy admits. 

“Might have—“ Jamal cuts himself off, and takes a deep breath so he doesn’t strangle his best friend of twenty years, “Don’t even talk to me right now. I’m taking a walk.”

“But this is your flat.” Eggsy calls, but Jamal ignores him. 

He can’t believe they’ve gotten tangled in this mess. Trying to pull this off is more stressful than the time Eggsy crashed Rottie’s car. 

Over the next month, they plan a full wedding. Every time Jamal can think of something that might gum up the works, Eggsy thinks of a way out of it. 

Flowers? Funeral home down the street changes out their flowers daily. 

Catering? Jamal, Eggsy, and Jamal’s gran will cook everything the day before, and use the bowling league’s shitty chafing dishes, usually reserved for hot dogs, and queso, to keep everything warm the next day. They fired the actual caterer after they gave everyone food poisoning. 

Decorations? Get them from the dumpsters behind the reception hall. Summer is a popular month for weddings. 

Tuxes? Rented. 

Rings? Found them at the pawn shop. 

Daisy’s dress? Use the one from Easter. 

Music? Phone, and a Bluetooth speaker. 

Chairs? Won’t need them. The ceremony will be short enough that no one needs to sit. Jamal’s gran can sit on her walker. 

In a way it is almost like planning an actual wedding. It’s going to look like shit. None of the decorations will match, the flowers will be different colors, and the kebabs will taste faintly of hot dogs. None of that would matter to Jamal, not really. Not if he was actually marrying— not if he was actually getting married. The celebration, and the coming together that’s what’s important. 

But he’s not actually getting married. He’s faking it. And that makes the slapdash construction of everything wrankle. It doesn’t match anything they sent on the original invitation. Harry Hart, and his plus one are going to see right through the ruse. 

He wishes he could call the whole thing off, but they’re already in too deep. He’s not sure who to be more upset with, Eggsy for setting this madness in motion, or himself for being so easily charmed into going along with it. 

For fuck’s sake they even have to host a rehearsal dinner of a kind because Daisy is only two, and needs to learn how to walk down an aisle. And Ryan, Liam, and Brandon all have to get their lies straight. 

They are one misstep away from cocking it all up. 

The rest of the boys have been sent packing with leftover pizza, and Daisy is tucked into bed. Eggsy comes back into the living room, and collapses onto the sofa next to Jamal. 

“I’m sorry.” Eggsy says softly after a moment. 

Jamal turns to look at him, “For what?”

“For dragging you into this. Ever since Dean got arrested, money’s been tight. He was a right asshole, but hey drug money still pays the bills.”

Jamal remembers the day Dean got arrested. Not even he can get away with sucker punching an undercover cop. Eggsy cried with relief on Jamal’s shitty sofa. 

“I thought this would be a quick way to get us some cash, and hold me over until I could find a day job,” Eggsy continues, “Instead we ended up planning a fucking wedding, and you’ve been a true mate through it all. Thank you.”

Eggsy laces his fingers with Jamal’s, and gives his hand a squeeze. And oh. This is why Jamal does these things. This is why he’s always ready to dive head first into whatever Eggsy is cooking up. Because underneath it all, Eggsy is loyal, and kind. 

The day dawns cold, and grey. Not at all ominous for what they’re about to do. Jamal struggles into his tux, and takes a second to look at himself in the mirror. 

He’s getting married today. Well, not really, but certainly close enough. His stomach is in knots. He’s not sure why he’s so nervous, Eggsy’s plans tend to work out in sheer dumb luck. 

When he arrives at the park, the usual suspects are hanging around. There are two gentlemen he doesn’t recognize. One has thick dark hair with a touch of grey at the temples. The other is bald as an egg. That must be Harry Hart, and his plus one. 

Jamal helps his gran hobble from the Uber down to where the ceremony is being held. Everyone takes their seats so to speak, and Eggsy stands at the end of the makeshift aisle. 

The music swells, and Jamal starts his procession up the aisle. His gran occasionally pats his hand, and whispers something encouraging in Arabic. 

He’s halfway through his vows when the cock up happens.

From the other side of Ryan, a voice almost shouts, “Eggsy? Jamal? Are you guys getting married?”

Greg. Fucking Greg. Liam won’t even hang out with Greg because he’s too much of a stoner. 

“Yes Greg, we’re getting married.” Eggsy says through gritted teeth, clearly trying to get things back on track. 

“Well how come I wasn’t invited? And where’s your family?”

“I thought you said you didn’t have much family left.” The man with dark hair says, and Jamal pegs him for Harry Hart. Only a bloke with the last name Hart could sound like that. 

“Don’t know who told you that,” Greg says, “Eggsy still lives with his mum, and Jamal has four sisters.”

“Fuck off, Greg.” Eggsy hisses, and Greg slinks away like a kicked puppy. 

“I believe we deserve a bit of an explanation, lads.” The plus one says seriously. 

“We… uh…” Eggsy stumbles awkwardly. He glances at Jamal for help. 

“Just give it up, bruv. No use fighting it.” Jamal says with a shrug. 

The whole plan tumbled out of Eggsy. It sounds even more ludicrous out loud than it did when it was being planned. 

When Eggsy finishes, there’s a beat of silence, and then Hart says, “So to recap. You sent fake wedding invites in the hope of getting some wedding gifts you could sell off. Then you put together a fake wedding so as to not blow your cover.”

Eggsy nods guiltily. 

“And neither of you though to send us an update that reported you calling it off?” Plus one asks.

Eggsy just shakes his head.

Then Hart begins to laugh. It starts as a chuckle, but soon he’s grabbing his husband's shoulder (weddings rings noticeable now that Jamal isn’t panicking) so as not to fall over. 

“This is by far the most ridiculous scheme ever cooked up,” Hart says mirthfully, “I congratulate you.”

“You ain’t angry?” Eggsy asks. 

“No. On the contrary, I quite enjoyed your theatrics. Feed me, and I will consider it a wash. There is food right?”

“Across the street, sir.” Jamal pipes up 

“No need to call me sir. Just Harry is fine. This is Merlin.”

Jamal watches as Harry sways around the dance floor with his gran. She seems delighted to have a handsome younger man giving her some attention is if there is a language barrier. 

Eggsy plops next to him on the bench for lane five, and passes him a beer. 

“Why’d you agree to this?” He asks after a long drink. 

Jamal just shrugs, and takes a sip of his own beer, “Think you know why.”

“Yeah,” Eggsy says, and that wide grin returns as he threads his fingers with Jamal’s, “Yeah I think I do.”

2 Years Later

This time they’re in a proper church. Vaulted ceilings, stained glass, the works. 

Eggsy had fought it at first, citing their atheism. Harry, and Michelle wore him down after a while. Although Jamal is sure what convinced Eggsy was the deal with the church who through in the event hall for free. 

Daisy is their flower girl. Jamal’s sister’s are groom’s maids, and Ryan, Brandon, Liam, and Eggsy’s cousin are the groomsmen. 

His gran still walks him down the aisle, but this time when he faces Eggsy they get married for real.


End file.
